


Star Trick

by futureboy



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, Star Trek References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureboy/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: Bill and Ted get ready for Halloween.





	Star Trick

**Author's Note:**

> @sickparanoid in the BATAG discord requested ‘bill and ted on halloween’ and here it is! Hope you enjoy. ♥

 

“Bill? Dude? Are you ready? I heard Mrs. Watterson down Cherry Street has _Faygo_. Can you imagine? Who gives out Faygo? That stuff is super pricey. Bill?”

Ted knocks on the door again. Rapid little knocks. It’s totally possible that it’s a result of his pop-rock lacquered mouth, sweet and crackly and hyperactivity-inducing. In Ted’s esteemed opinion, November 1st is National Sugar Crash Day. He looks forward to it every year.

“I’m not coming out,” Bill says, muffled behind his bedroom door.

“Come on, dude. I’m sure you look great! Look, we’ve even got sweaters, they’re perfect for Halloween weather. Let’s see how it turned out!”

The door reluctantly creaks open, by the tiniest amount.

Ted sneaks in like he’s dressed as a burglar. He is not dressed as a burglar. This year, anyway.

Bill looks _remarkably_ grumpy. His face is all scrunched up, and his arms are crossed over his chest, and he throws his butt down onto the bed with a soft _whumph_ noise.

“You’re gonna crinkle your Command Golds,” Ted grins.

“I already got hair grease on them. Washed it out, though, so hopefully no-one will notice...”

“It looks fine!” says Ted.

And it does. The golden yellow overshirt seems to have glitter or something caught in the fibres, but it gives it a slight shimmer that’s most intriguing. The Starfleet insignia is perfectly drawn on - they couldn’t find any patches - and the black undershirt is thermal, which means it’s clinging to Bill’s torso and letting the whole top half of the costume hug him comfortably.

“It’s the hair,” Bill whines. “I can’t get it right, dude!”

Ted scrutinises it. Admittedly, yeah, it was a bit strange. Bill had tried to tame his curls, but the parting looks like it’s refusing to set, and half of his head is oddly puffed up.

“Do you think I need more grease?”

He thinks for a second. “No, dude,” he finally decides, “just take some from the side that’s glued down right, and comb it through the big side of the parting. We can add hairspray if it’s still being stubborn. Right?”

“Yeah,” Bill concedes. He bites the inside of his lip: “can you help me?”

Ted beams. “Sure! I’ll do it for you. No problem, Bill.”

He grabs the comb from on top of Bill’s headboard and sits next to him. Bill twists around, swinging his feet onto the mattress, so that he can face his friend properly. He tosses the tin of pomade from hand to hand anxiously.

“Hey,” says Ted gently. “We’ll fix it.”

He puts one hand steady at Bill’s temple, raising the other to comb back the wayward curls. Bill winces when he tugs.

“Sorry.”

“You’re doing a good job, dude, don’t say sorry.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna hurt you,” Ted laughs.

Bill shrugs, as best as he can when he’s trying to stay still. “Sometimes, we must suffer for our art, Ted,” he says, as Ted laughs even harder, “and _sometimes_ , that art is being the best versions of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock this side of the galaxy.”

Ted combs back one curl by Bill’s left ear, and does it again four or five times. Man, that one really wants to be in the spotlight. “Yeah, that’s true,” he says. “Hey, do you think Kirk and Spock would like Mötley Crüe?”

It takes a second for Bill to mull it over. “I think _Spock_ would like Mötley Crüe,” he concedes, “because Star Trek takes place in the 2260s, right? So it would be classical music by then! But Kirk seems like he would be… More of a Robert Robertson fan?”

“ _Showdown at Big Sky_ ,” Ted nods. He drags the comb all the way back to the nape of Bill’s neck. “Yep. That’s an astute observation, Bill.”

“Thank you, Ted.”

“How does that look?”

Bill leaps up from his sheets and darts over to the mirror. “Ted! _Dude_!” he grins, “it’s perfect! You got it just right!”

He beams. “I’m most pleased you like it, Bill. I think you look very… Captain-y.”

“And you look substantially scientific,” says Bill, bouncing back onto the bed. The slats groan dangerously. “Hey, do you think we can get the ends of your eyebrows to go up with the hair grease comb?”

“Yeah, try it!”

Bill pries the comb from Ted’s fingers and gently draws the greased teeth upwards, towards Ted’s hairline.

“Your amusement is unsettling me.”

“Dude, you sound just like Spock,” Bill says, continuing to giggle. “No, I was just thinking, this looks so funny. It’s perfect for Halloween.”

“You sure?” asks Ted.

“Positive, Ted. Hey, what’s that on your ears?”

Ted tucks his hair behind his left ear, exposing a plastic extension which curls upwards. He looks elfin. “Aren’t they cool? Deacon made them in shop class! I couldn’t do anything like this in shop class, no way. He’s so smart.”

Bill pokes it gently - the ear points are hollowed out at the base, and sit neatly over the top of Ted’s actual ear. No glue or anything. That’s outstanding work, Deacon.

“They look amazing, dude. Oh, you want help with your eyeshadow, too?”

Ted nods so vigorously that his hair gets untucked from behind his ear. He rummages in his pocket - made more difficult by the fact that he’s still sat on Bill’s bed - and brings out a tiny plastic case.

“Is it blue or purple?” he asks, squinting at it.

Bill takes it from his hands. “Blue-purple,” he decides, and flicks the lid up. “Make-up isn’t exactly our forte, Ted. I don’t really wanna jab you in the eye with this fluffy stick thing, so…”

“Yeah, go on, dude. However you want.”

Bill drags his thumb in the dust and leans forwards. “Close your eyes, okay?”

“Okay,” breathes Ted, and lets the world go dark.

He jumps at the first touch. But Bill is gentle, and he’s never broken a guitar string even though Ted’s broken, like, ten guitars’ worth of strings, so there’s nothing to worry about at all. By the time Bill’s finished blending the colour into the edges of the second eye, Ted’s feeling pretty good about his costume.

“How does it look?”

“Open your eyes, I can’t tell yet.”

Bill’s bedroom is bright, all lit up in warm pinks, and Bill’s expression is soft. He’s staring right into Ted’s eyes. Assessing his work. Looking to see if something else is there.

Ted curls into kissing him, and Bill’s head tilts backwards in surprise. “Oh, right,” he says, muffled against Ted’s mouth, “is this what’s happening--?”

“Shut up, Bill,” Ted retorts, trying not to grin so that their teeth don’t clack together. He runs his tongue ticklishly over Bill’s bottom lip. The little gasp is expected. The two hands tucked his hair back behind his ears are not.

Eventually, Bill turns his head away. “We can’t do this all night, dude,” he laughs, pushing at where Ted is resting their foreheads together, “we’re gonna miss trick-or-treating. Come _on_. Do I still look okay?”

Ted reluctantly stands, holding out a hand to Bill. The greased hair is perfect, because he hadn’t wanted to mess it up by touching it, because that would’ve annoyed Bill all over again. “Bill, my friend? You look outstanding,” he says. “Hey, maybe we should give you one of those ripped chest windows like William Shatner has. With the bodacious lipstick wounds.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna get Faygo if I rack up to houses with my chest exposed, dude,” Bill says dubiously. He takes Ted’s hand.

Ted noses at his temple. “Later, then?” he says, looking down through his eyelashes.

“Later,” Bill agrees. “C’mon, Ted. Let’s go beam down into suburbia.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers for reading - if you like my stuff, maybe consider author-subscribing to me! Kudoses are also appreciated. Noice.
> 
> My fic blog is [here](http://futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com/).


End file.
